Great Hair
by Hermia LaFaye
Summary: Rose Tyler thinks that the Doctor has really great hair.


Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, shame really.

A/N: This came from the line in 'Turn Left', hope you enjoy!!

**Great Hair**

Rose Tyler thinks that this new version of the Doctor is really quite nice. No, actually, scratch that; she thinks he's the most beautiful thing she has seen in a long time, maybe even ever. His hair on the other hand, is another matter altogether. It captivated her. In fact, she spent the majority of Christmas staring at his hair. It was brown, but it was such a lovely shade of brown, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. It stuck out in every direction, as if each strand was rebelling against the other. She knew that it had taken the Doctor quite some time to work out how to tame his rebellious hair. It also didn't help that the Doctor was almost constantly touching his hair. He ruffled it at the back of his neck when he was nervous, he ran his hands through it when he was trying to think, and, the worst one yet, was when he would just grab it in sheer frustration; as if his hair would give him the answer he was seeking. It was in these moments that Rose would almost drool, and it was getting worse. He just wouldn't leave it alone.

She'd always had a weakness for good hair on a man. Jimmy Stone had been blessed with gorgeous long blond curls; it was one of the first things that her sixteen year old self had noticed. One of her favourite ways to spend an evening had been to just snuggle up next to Jimmy, and wind her fingers through his hair, twisting and twirling the soft strands round her fingers. She knew the relationship was ending, when he had shaved all of those lovely curls off.

So now, Rose was stuck in a bit of a bind. She was stuck in a spaceship, God knows where, with a very cute hyperactive alien with great hair and an oral fixation. Bit by bit, her will was breaking because he just _wouldn__'__t_ leave his hair alone. There were only so many excuses that a girl could come up with when asked, 'Why are you staring at me? Have I got something on my face?'

It had been a relatively uneventful day, just hanging around in the vortex when she finally broke. The Doctor had spent most of the day tinkering with the Tardis. She had spent her time curled up on the Captain's chair, alternatively talking with the Doctor and reading a book. They had both settled down in the TARDIS library after dinner to watch a movie. She had been sat on her favourite squishy sofa, and the Doctor had sat down in front of her on the rug, spreading out some bits and bobs of machinery in front of him, that he could tinker with as they watched the movie. She didn't actually pay attention to the movie at all, all she could see was his hair, bobbing up and down in front of her as the Doctor moved his head as he shifted his focus from the movie to the machinery in front of him. It was like dancing chocolate, and, she just couldn't take it any more.

She shifted on the sofa, bringing herself to sit up from her previously slumped position. The Doctor, hearing her move, turned to face her as she crossed her legs. She met his enquiring gaze with a small smile and he briefly smiled back, then went back to focusing on his jiggery pokery. She watched him for a few seconds out of the corner of her eye, then, she shuffled forward slightly and paused, he didn't react. Her palms felt clammy, briefly rubbing them on her jeans; she felt butterflies start to dance in her stomach. She briefly wondered if he could hear how loud her heart was beating. She shuffled forward to the very edge of the sofa and paused, he was still happily oblivious to her. She nervously bit her bottom lip, and, then reached forward with both hands and ran her fingers through his hair. It was every bit as good as she had imagined.

His reaction was instantaneous, his breath hitched, his hands let go of the part he had been holding and he leaned back into her touch. She ran her fingers along his scalp, feeling the soft silky strands glide through her fingers and bounce off of her palms as the shorter strands sprang back to their original position. Rose had to stop herself from groaning; she uncrossed her legs and moved closer to him. She began to twist and twirl some of the longer strands at the top of his head with one hand, and, run the other hand through the shorter strands at the back, enjoying the feeling of them springing back against her palm.

Then, as she started to get into the rhythm of things, the Doctor started to purr.

Before she could even truly react, he sprang to his feet, muttered an apology to her, and, ran out of the library as the very hounds of hell were after him. Her hands were still suspended in mid air as she watched him leave. It was a few moments before it really sank in.The Doctor purred. _Her_ Doctor, purred. She couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing. Her Doctor was a very cute, hyperactive alien, who purred. Getting to her feet, she made her way out of the library and began her search for him.

It was an hour later when she admitted defeat, and applied to the TARDIS for help. The TARDIS, ever helpful, lit the way down the corridor and to her Doctor.

She found him in a room filled with containers, holding what looked like keyboards and wires, and she was sure that there was the beginnings of another K9 on the workbench where he was sat fiddling with various bits of wire. She sat down beside him.

"Why'd you run away?" she asked quietly.

He doesn't respond, the only sign that he had heard her was a brief pause in his work and a tightening of his lips. It seemed, she thought, that he was resolute in avoiding the conversation. She sighed, mentally preparing to broach the subject with him. He wasn't going to get away that easily. Changing tack, she asked; "Was it because you purred, because, if it was. I don't mind, it was kind of nice." He turned to face her, a sceptical look on his features, "OK," she conceded. "Maybe it was a bit odd, but, well… why do you purr anyway?"

He turned back and started fiddling with his work again. There was a slight pause before he answered her question.

"Respiratory bypass system, it allows for the laryngeal muscles to rapidly dilate, which in turn, constricts the glottis, which causes vibrations in the air both during inhalation and exhalation. It only occurs when the inhalation and exhalation of air is slow and steady. Which, would only happen if I was very relaxed and content." He spieled off the explanation, with the air of a lecturer teaching an extremely uninteresting subject.

Sensing that his detachment and avoidance of the subject at hand was more due to embarrassment than anything else, she decided to get right to the heart of the matter. "So, you enjoyed it?"

She watched as he closed his eyes, his face reddening, "Yes." he answered quietly.

"But you're embarrassed by that though, aren't you? Why?" she asked gently.

He put down his sonic screwdriver, turned to face her and grasped her hands in his, he looked into her eyes before answering.

"Rose, my species, we didn't… we don't…" He took a breath and he seemed to collect himself. She gave his hands an encouraging squeeze. He continued, "Rose, my species weren't ones for physical affection. In fact, most of the time we avoided it whenever possible. We probably could have given the Victorians a lesson or two on prudishness, if I'm completely honest. On Gallifrey, it was frowned upon. We weren't suppose to touch or enjoy touching. There were those that did, but, they quickly became ostracised, shunned or just simply ignored by their peers." He seemed to drift off for a moment before coming back to himself. "So, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Rose squeezed his hands once more and nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Cultural conditioning can be a tough one." She smirked slightly, "Especially for someone as old as you".

"Oi! Cheeky!" he replied, with an indignant look on his face.

Laughing, she shoved his shoulder slightly, and inwardly revelled at the return of the familiar twinkle to his eyes. "So are we OK, then?" she asked timidly.

He smiled at her. "Yep," he replied, popping the 'p', "Fantastic. Couldn't be better."

She looked down. "In that case then, can I still play with your hair?" She felt her cheeks heat up, but continued before she lost courage, "It's just that, you have really great hair, and… well…" but before she could finish, he interrupted her.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" There was an air of smugness to his voice, and then; "Ooooooooooohhhhhhhh, is that why you've been staring at me all these months?" she looked up to see his eyes widen as the revelation hit him. He then smirked and raised his left eyebrow, the tone of his voice darkening slightly, "You've been hair lusting. Haven't you, Rose Tyler?"

Giggling slightly, she raised an eyebrow and smiled, her tongue curling behind her teeth. "Well," she paused, and reached up with one hand and fingered some of the strands near his forehead, and continued, "You've got to admit Doctor, it really is great hair."

"Is that so?" he asked, his tone still dark.

Resolutely ignoring what his tone of voice was doing to her insides, she answered coyly and echoed his earlier response, "Yep."

There was a pause as they looked into each other's eyes, and then the moment broke, and they began laughing and giggling away together.

Calming slightly, Rose stood up from the bench and held out her hand, "Come on, I need a cuppa, care to join me?" Nodding, the Doctor grasped her hand, and together they made their way out of the door and to the kitchen.

It was later, as they sat together at the small table in the kitchen that Rose asked; "So, can I?"

The Doctor looked at her, a questioning look on his face. She gestured toward his hair.

"Oh! Oh, that. Yeah." Waggling his eyebrows, he continued, "After all, it is _great_ hair."

Their joint laughter echoed through the kitchen and down the corridors of the TARDIS.


End file.
